


after

by Arvanion



Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia, Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Shin Ankoku Ryuu to Hikari no Ken | Fire Emblem: Shadow Dragon
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/F, Light Angst, Nagamas 2018, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 14:27:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17245850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arvanion/pseuds/Arvanion
Summary: How do you put together the pieces of a life you've never had?





	after

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Solrosfalt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solrosfalt/gifts).



> My Nagamas present for Solrosfalt/wyvern-dork, who requested something domestic with a princess/knight pair. It got away from me a bit and ended up largely pre-domestic, but I had some really tender feelings about these two while I was brainstorming, so hopefully that comes through in the work!

After the war, when all is said and done and the last soldiers have laid down their weapons, Minerva doesn't know what to do with herself. She has been a princess of Macedon her entire life: a warrior, a commander. What is a warrior with no war to fight? What is a commander with nobody to command?

But perhaps saying "nobody" is incorrect. Her soldiers may have dispersed to their homes, but her faithful knights remain by her side. Palla, Catria, and Est--the White Wings of Macedon had cultivated a fearsome reputation during the war. But for all that, they are still themselves. Catria writes lovesick poetry and spends hours staring aimlessly into the distance; Est still tears up and sniffles reading emotional passages of books; Palla still fusses over everyone like a worried mother hen.

And Palla still trains at Minerva's side, and shares smiles with her over meals, and softly kisses her goodnight, and holds her close when the cold winds blow.

 

 

Seasons pass.

 

 

"You mustn't overwork yourself, Your Highness," Palla admonishes Minerva one day, green eyes serious. "It may not be the same kind of strain as battle, but governance will exhaust you just as surely."

"It won't be for much longer," Minerva replies, still bent over her desk. "Once the unification is complete, the fate of Macedon will be out of my hands."

"Are you certain that is what you want?"

"It has little to do with my own wishes. Macedon has been served ill by my family--it is time for that chapter of our country's history to end."

"Minerva..." says Palla. The princess can tell her lover is irritated: Palla still rarely uses her name, unless she has a point to make. Minerva sighs.

"Very well. If you insist on knowing, I would by lying if I said my reasons were entirely unselfish. In truth, I have no desire to inherit the throne."

"Why?"

"I fear for what I might become." Minerva pushes back her chair and stands, walking over to the window. Through the foggy glass, she can see the land of Macedon: the pine-clad ridges, the sheer cliffs where the wyverns make their nests, the high meadows where shepherds graze their flocks and the steep-sided river valleys where farmers work small plots of land.

"I love this country--as I have no doubt Michalis did, misguided as his actions were. He and I are more alike than I care to admit. If I do not want to follow the same path my brother did, then I must turn aside from it before I begin to walk it." She rests her hand against the cold stone of the wall. "Still, I have a duty to the people, and I must see it fully done before I step aside."

Palla is quiet for several long moments. Minerva wonders if she will have another rejoinder: an argument against Minerva's choice, or a hollow reassurance that such a thing could never happen. But in the end, she simply nods thougtfully. "If it will bring you happiness, then you must follow your heart."

Those words echo in Minerva's mind, long after Palla has left the room.

 

 

Seasons pass.

 

 

Hardin, the Prince of Aurelis, is married to Princess Nyna of Archanea in a splendid ceremony, attended by dozens of their comrades from the war. Minerva is struck by the way he looks: though it has scarcely been more than a year since the demise of Medeus, Hardin seems to have aged ten times that. His face is lined and careworn, and his customary turban has been set aside, displaying a receding hairline.

"Such are the burdens of rule," she mutters to herself, staring at the moon from a castle balcony following the ceremony's end. "It's as if the life is being drained from him..."

"Your Highness?" Palla's voice comes softly from behind her. Minerva pushes herself back from the balcony rail.

"Am I being called for?"

"No, Your Highness," says Palla. "I came to seek you out myself."

Minerva sighs. "I apologize if I concerned you, but I am not one for crowds."

"There is no need to apologize. May I join you?"

"By all means."

Palla steps up to the railing alongside Minerva. For a while, they simply stand silently together, breathing deeply of the cool night air. At last, Palla breaks the silence.

"I am leaving Archanea."

The words strike Minerva like a physical blow, but she keeps her face studiously smooth. "Why?"

"It's our sister, Est. She set out last year, to explore the world, she said. But we have heard nothing from her in months. If something has befallen her, we must find out."

Minerva feels a sharp pang of worry. "I will come with you--"

"No, Your Highness." Palla lays a hand on top of Minerva's, smiling kindly. "You have a duty to the people, remember? You must see it through to the end."

"What of you? Will I see you again?"

Palla hesitates, and Minerva knows then that her knight is uncertain if she will ever return. But then she smiles, and speaks with perfect confidence. "I will return to your side, my princess. Without fail."

Minerva's heart swells with affectionate pride. "See that you do."

 

 

Seasons pass.

 

 

The peace brought by Medeus's demise is fragile, and soon shatters. The lingering soul of Gharnef, preserved by some arcane method, brings war to Archanea once again.

Minerva is almost relieved. Once again, she can lift Hauteclere in battle, distracting herself for a few moments from the ever-present, gnawing worry that has gripped her ever since the Whitewing sisters departed over the seas. It has been a long time since she saw them, but though she fears the worst, she clings to Palla's parting words: that she would return, without fail.

And when that promise is finally fulfilled, and Palla appears before her again at last, Minerva vows they will never part again.

"You came back," she murmurs half-disbelievingly into Palla's hair, holding the other woman tightly to her chest. "You came back."

"I told you I would, my heart."

 

 

Their wedding is small and quiet. Palla's sisters are the only guests--Est smiling as she wipes away tears with a handkerchief, and Catria practically swelling with pride. Maria administers the vows, her cleric's robes the same spotless white as the snow upon the Macedonian mountains.

 

 

Seasons pass.

 

 

They move to a cottage in the hill country--a wedding gift from Princess Caeda, built by the woodcutters of Talys. There is a garden there, and if Minerva is unused to the simple tasks of maintaining a home, she is quick to learn. In the grey light of morning, her shirt unlaced and her sleeves rolled up, she splits wood with clean swings of her hatchet, and marvels at how different it is from wielding an axe on the battlefield. She kneads bread dough with callused hands and pulls weeds from the garden and hauls crates of supplies from a mule-cart into their cellar, while Palla plants seeds and fixes fences and tends to their small flock of sheep.

One night, as the two of them stand together on the porch and listen to the night wind stirring the grass, Palla speaks up.

"I'm curious, Minerva. Is this the life you imagined you'd be living?"

Minerva chuckles, low and amused. "No. But that would be true of anything, now that the wars are over. I spent years on the battlefield, thinking only of the present. I never stopped to consider an 'after.'"

"What do you think of it, now that it's here?" says Palla, a hint of teasing in her voice.

Minerva smiles and wraps an arm around Palla's waist, pulling her wife closer. "I think it's better than anything I could have imagined."


End file.
